Let Me Love You
by Creature of Habit
Summary: OneShot and Sequel. Pairing:SpongebobSquid. A bit on the dark side but a good read I promise. Rating is M just to be on the safe side. Nothing explicit. Feedback is much appreciated. Originally titled: Stupid
1. Stupid

**Minor corrections** (as of July13th, 2005): I apologize for the muck up in Squid's eye color. In sitting down to figure out what to write about, I pondered a lot of different cartoons and anime. No idea what got confused in there, but I made the correction from amber to dark mahogany (lovely color for eyes if you ask me). I also added more on to the end to give it a bit more body. I am a bit torn on whether or not I should make a sequel to this. I doubt anyone is even going to read this, so, I am more or less doing it for writing experience. I am undecided if I should continue this, and from there what kind of ending I should to give it. I could end it tragic, or I could hook them up. So, if anyone does read this, input would be much appreciated.

Okay, so, since the usual story is on hiatus, I am going to try my hand at an independent piece. It might not be too good, and it might seem odd to some people, but that is the fun in being a writer, I think. You get to be creative and stretch the boundaries. I am a huge Spongebob fan, and I can relate to Squid on a lot of levels. I am suffering a terrible case of unrequited love at the moment and I figure, "who could understand that concept better than poor, cynical, melodramatic Squid?"(love his character to bits) Thus, you get this melancholy little one-shot.

On the other story, I am trying to work on that. It is hard doing it on my own, though. I apologize that it is taking so long, but my best friend is in a real bad spot right now. I am doing my best to bring her around, but I do not want to push her too much on it. She needs time, and as selfish as this might sound to fans of the story (I know you are aching for new material, that is natural), she is more important to me.

I caution you, this is slash: Spongebob/Squid. I can not figure out why there are not more stories on this pairing. It seems so blatant to me. I think what clinched it for me was the pizza episode. I mean, Squid must have some type of feelings for Spongebob to take his being rejected by the customer so personally. It touched a serious chord in me. I just think Spongebob is too innocent to see it, and of course Squid is too proud to act on it. Some cursing, but not a lot. I am rating this mature, just to be on the safe side.

Disclaimer: I do not own Spongebob or any of the characters. Song used for inspiration in this chapter, "Stupid" by Prime-sth. Song lyrics have been removed. (as of August 13th, 2005)

Primer: Squid point of view. Lots of mental and emotional angst. I am going straight to the core of Squid and shining a light on the softer, more tormented side of our beloved, morose artist. Also, I am making Squid older than Spongebob. No idea on true ages, but for this story, Sponge is 20 and Squid is 27. It just seems that Squid would be a little older because of how Spongebob seems to look up to him so much, and because he has a wickedly jaded demeanour. Oh, and I know this is something most of you are probably not going to like, but Squid smokes in here. I think it fits his personality and I guess I am trying to put emphasis on his less than innocent side.

I am hoping that fans of "Anatomy of Melancholy" can enjoy this, even though it is not Dragonball Z. I also hope that my time spent playing dedicated apprentice has paid off. Otherwise, this is going to suck.

_**Stupid**_

_By: Creature of Habit_

_I used to think I had it together. I used to think nothing could penetrate these iron bars around my heart. I spent years lying to myself, unable to admit that he had done the unthinkable – the unfathomable. It was a mistake. It had to be. I could not be feeling these things. I was not capable of feeling such things. It was laughable. It was insane. I mean ... this is ... Spongebob. I hate him. I do. I ... h-hate ... h ... I love him. _

"No. It's impossible." Squidward tried desperately to reassure himself. It was not out of stereotypical denial that he fought the concept, though. Rather, it was because to admit it at this point meant losing his mind.

On the outside, his penchant for melodrama seemed transparent enough. It was just the conceited pessimism of a man too caught up in the dark side of life. On the inside, the pain was more mind-bending than one could imagine. It seemed so easy to spit those cynical retorts and indulge in the same casual, nine-to-five rudeness. But, in truth, the bitter spectacle had a much more grim purpose. It was a steel curtain to shroud the real hurt and depression seething beneath the surface.

_I'll be okay as long as I don't say it out loud. If I don't say it, it doesn't seem as real. Sure, that seems logical enough. I just won't say it out loud. I can pretend this is all just a bad dream. Right, just a nightmare. I had a hard day, and I am just hallucinating that I ... I love ... _

"Spongebob."

_No, I did not just say that. No – no! I just imagined I did. It's okay, Squidward. Just relax and breathe. Good. You only imagined you said it. You did not just say that ..._

"I love Spongebob."

Thoughts splintered into dust around him. The room seemed to spin out of control. His mind began to lose purchase and his limbs felt like liquid mercury. It had happened – after four years of keeping it hidden in the blackened corners of his mind, it has happened. He had said it. He could no longer pretend. He could no longer hide. He had said it and there was no turning back.

"Oh God."

_:Flashback:_

"Hey, Squidward. You okay? You look a like you just lost your best friend."

_Bad choice of words, _thought the sentimental sponge. If anyone understood Squidward and his plights and problems, it was, ironically enough, Spongebob. _I feel so bad for him. I don't think Squidward has any friends. I keep trying, but he seems pretty content to hate me. _Spongebob studied the moping man slumped at one of the tables, an almost untouched Diet Dr. Kelp soda clutched in one listless tentacle, a half smoked cigarette in the other. _Poor guy. I would give him a hug, but the last time I tried that he threatened to rip out my arms and beat me with them. _

Indeed, the morose Squid had become more than a handful of late. It was, of course, part of his character to be standoffish and condescending, but it had gotten a lot worse in the past three months. He had almost been fired a half a dozen times for his increasingly rogue conduct, and it had only been at the persistent pleading of Spongebob that Mr. Krabs had agreed to let him stay on.

"Spongebob, if you don't mind, I am trying to brood – alone." Squid spit, not so much as raising his head to look at the fidgeting Sponge as he took another drag off the cigarette.

_Someone up there hates me, _Squid lamented in his mind. He had tried to manage some time to himself to get his thoughts off of the very person pestering him. _I should just quit. If this keeps up, if these feelings get any stronger, they are going to be the end of me. _Of course, the reason he had thought better of quitting was also the reason he wanted to – Spongebob.

"Come on, Squid. I mean, I know you hate me," Spongebob cringed, the thought alone slicing through him like a thousand knife blades, "but, it helps to talk about things. I might not be your first choice of people to open up to, but I think it would do you good ... and I want to help." Spongebob persuaded, vibrant blue eyes tracing the cigarette as it lifted again to the pale sage lips.

"Listen, Spongebob," Squidward snarled, "I can take care of myself. I don't need help from anyone, least of all you." He sneered in a brutal hiss, standing up and dumping his soda in the trash, making the Good Samaritan sponge startle at the unexpected violent outburst.

"B-but Squid, if you just ..." Spongebob began, trying in desperation to reach out to the anti-social man despite the lump of fear lodged in his throat.

"I told you no, damn it." Squidward said, near to shouting and once again making Spongebob jump in fright. "It's closing time," he said as he caught sight of the clock, tossing his hat onto the table and extinguishing the cigarette. "I'm out of here."

One tentacle on the door, and entangled in the thoughts of another night spent in silent despair, the quiet, soft pressure about his middle almost did not register. Casting a curious and hesitant glance to his stomach, he found the one thing he did not need at the moment. Curled around him, ensconcing him in a near fatally tender embrace, was the drear figure of Spongebob.

"Please don't, Squid. Don't do this to yourself. I am tired of seeing you torture yourself like this. You're not being fair to the people that care about you. You're not being fair to yourself." Spongebob begged, sounding as though sobbing, but Squid could not be certain as his face seen fit to bury itself in the cotton of his olive coloured shirt.

_Oh, no. Not this. Not now. _Squidward started to shake inside.

"Spongebob, get off of me. You're being pathetic and you're embarrassing me." Squidward reprimanded the shorter man, trying to sound harsh but coming out much more gentle and delicate than intended. Of course, this put his anger and discomfort through the roof. Good thing the restaurant was always empty at closing time.

_Look at what he is doing to me. Spongebob, you pitiful, absolutely useless ... oh God, he is crying. Spongebob, please, don't cry because of me. _Squidward bit his tongue, the urge to cradle the piteous creature in his arms almost too much to bear. _But I can't. He wouldn't understand. _The thought threatened to murder him on the spot.

"I don't care. Please, Squid ..." Spongebob pleaded, clinging to the thin frame and nudging his nose more ardently into the cologne and smoke laced folds of the gossamer material. For some strange reason, the scent comforted him. It was dark and bleak and troubled and took an acquired taste to properly appreciate. Just like Squid.

_It smells good on him. It fits him. _Spongebob decided, breathing in deep and letting the abstract token engrain itself in his memory. _It feels so good to comfort him. I wish he would let me do this more often. _Spongebob dug his hands into the soothing cloth, enfolding his obstinate peer more deeply into the snug sphere.

_He's so fragile. _Squidward though, nibbling his bottom lip. _It's so tempting to just – maybe just this once. _His heart thudded like a panicked rabbit in his chest as his arms lifted and began to descend around the delicate little figure. _No, hold it ... what am I doing? Stop it!_

"I said get off of me!" Squidward shouted, dislodging and briskly pushing Spongebob to the side and into one of the nearby tables by accident. The unanticipated jolt set the emotional man to stumbling off balance, and before he could get his senses straight, he had crashed to the floor in a sad, twisted heap. Squid cringed at the rueful sight, his throat tightening to the point of suffocation. He had not meant to be so rough. He just needed to break the confusing physical contact before he lost it and did something he felt sure to regret.

_I have to get out of here. I have to get home. _He spared the watery-eyed Spongebob one last apologetic look before thrusting the door open and scrambling as fast as his tentacles could carry him into the cold solitude of night.

"Squidward." Spongebob squeaked out in a broken sob, cradling his legs to his chest and trying to make sense of what he could have ever done to inspire such a fierce hatred of him in the other man. He had done his best – bent over backward in fact – to be kind to the impudent older man. But, some place, he had obviously taken a wrong turn. He had just wanted to be his friend.

"Spongebob?" Came the somber, gruff inquiry.

"Oh, sorry about that, Mr. Krabs. I just sort of ... slipped. I'm on it, sir." Spongebob tried smile and sound his normal, amicable self as he politely saluted, hopping to his feet and darting on trembling legs to a back room to find the broom. Once inside, he closed the door, his lonesome figure sliding to the floor in another fit of confounded tears.

_:End Flashback:_

_I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I just couldn't take the thought of doing something rash and then being rejected. I know he tries to be nice to me – but Spongebob is nice to everyone. It's just in his nature to be extroverted and outgoing. I like it, but at the same time, I can not stand it. It hurts to see him smile and laugh and playfully brush up against me ... because I know he doesn't really mean it. To him, it is nothing. And, to me, it is everything. _

"If you could have just meant it once." Squid sighed, one tentacle resting on the cold windowpane as he pined longingly at the brightly lit house next door. If you only had the intelligence and emotional depth to feel for me what I feel for you." He languished, the first prick of salty tears beginning to puddle in the corner of one lackluster dark mahogany orb. "I could have given you so much. It could have been so good." He sighed, eyes landing on a picture that rested on an antique end table, lips turning up in a nostalgic smile.

It had been taken last year on his birthday. Spongebob stood beside him in the photo, grinning eat to ear, one canary yellow arm holding him close. Squid on the other hand looked, as usual, glum and dispassionate. In reality, it had been one of the happiest moments he could remember. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to return the thoughtless affection. But, it had been thoughtless, he thought, smile fading, and that is the reason he could not return any of those gleeful chance encounters.

"It could have been," Squid ground out, picture trembling ominously in one tentacle hand, "but you could never appreciate it!" He screamed, slamming the picture against the far wall, tears flooding his eyes and streaming down his pale cheeks, spattering his shirt like the glass that shattered and littered the once spotless stone flooring. "You could never appreciate any of it, you blind, stupid, lamebrain fool!" Squid sobbed, one absentminded tentacle brushing his bald head as his mind raced out of control.

Tentacles lashing, odds and ends crashing and busting into mangled, intangible fragments – he had to get rid of anything that reminded him of his unrequited obsession. He smashed the monogrammed coffee mug that Spongebob had made for him to amend breaking the other one. He ripped the pages out of the art books Spongebob had bought for him to apologize for that fiasco as an art instructor. He broke the jazz and classical music records Spongebob had given him for Christmas that year. He couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. Lungs about to explode and throat sore from screaming, he demolished everything that made him think of the adorable yellow sponge.

"I should have told you. I wanted to. I tried to a million and one times. But you're so fucking dense, you could never understand!" He cried, collapsing against a nearby wall and denting holes in the hard stone, tentacles soon bruised and bleeding. In his heart, he could not quite bring himself to blame Spongebob. It wasn't as though he was hurting him on purpose. "You're just too fucking innocent to see!" Squid sobbed, soul splitting and tearing apart at the seams.

"I don't blame you," Squid mumbled under his breath, letting his drained figure crumble to the floor in a sickening heap. He soon began to succumb to the emotional exhaustion, the short pants and cries beginning to subside. "It's not your fault that you're so innocent. It's one of the reasons I'm so fond of you." He whispered, dusting an adoring tentacle over the besmirched, glassy photo film that lay at his side. "I suppose this is life's way of telling me I don't deserve love – that I don't deserve you." Squid part laughed, part sobbed, the undeniable truth collapsing in on him like an anvil. "Curse you for making me love you."

An hour later found the brooding artist in his signature white cotton lounge robe, moping at the kitchen table over a lukewarm cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. The lush scent of lilac bath oil radiated from the willow tinted skin, perfuming the stagnant, depressed water around him. In front of him lay a book of old poetry and a bottle of pills.

**Fin.**

Heartbreaking, isn't it? I hope this turned out okay. I am not going to say if Spongebob reciprocates the feelings – that is up to you to decide. I am doing my best, as I try to work on this other project, to sort of put together little one-shots to keep you entertained and occupied in the meantime. Most, if I can manage any more of these, are probably going to be a bit dark and depressing. I can't help it. Life is not so good to me at the moment and this is one of my only safe outlets. Okay, read and review please. I could use some feedback as this is my first independent piece and I am itching to know how I did.

Thanks a bunch.

Squidward (sniffling and scowling): Why does everyone think I am so cynical and depressed?  
Creature of Habit (cuddling him and handing him a tissue): Because you are, honey.  
Squidward (wiping his eyes): Oh, right.  
Spongebob (bounces in): Hey Creature! Hey Squidward!  
Squidward (trying to hide behind a throw pillow): Go away.  
Spongebob (concerned): What's wrong with Squid?  
Creature of Habit (sighing and patting Squid): He's lonely.  
Spongebob (is becoming sad): Oh, don't be lonely, Squid. (grins) I know what you need – a hug!  
Squidward (blushes and eyes bug out): Get him away from me. (tries to hide more behind the pillow)  
Creature of Habit (grins): Squid, are you ... blushing? (wiggles her eyebrows)  
Squidward (glares and blushes more): No! Stop looking at me like that!  
Creature of Habit (winks at Spongebob, who winks back – in unison): Hug attack!  
Squidward (panics): No! Make it stop! Somebody help me!


	2. Bother

I decided to make a sequel. I need the writing experience (I am hoping it can help me get something done on our co-project) and to be honest, I can not bear making poor Squid suffer what I already know to be an unadulterated hell of hells. Someone should be happy out of this, even if it is a fictional character. Plus, I am a person that lives to make others happy, and since I can not do that for anyone around here at the moment, Squid is going to have to do. Lordy, that is so depressing.

I had Bulma read this for me. I thought it might help get her mind off of other things. I am pleased to say that she perked up a bit, although I think I scarred her mind for life. Yay me!

Disclaimer: I do not own Spongebob or any of the characters. I own the plot and a very sad, sick mind but that is about it.

Primer: Squid is contemplating suicide. Spongebob is torn up and confused, and not being able to sleep, takes it upon himself to drop in on his secret crush. Not your typical happy ending. Of course this is fiction, but I just happen to be a consummate realist (something I picked up from Bulma). So, although I am opening the door to romance, it comes at a price. Love is just not that simple. I dedicate this to all the hopeless romantics out there that have met this same sour, tragic fate. Not so much cursing this time. In fact, I don't think there is any.

Songs used: "To Be Free" Emiliana Torrini (from the beginning to where Spongebob spies the pills), "Bother" by Stone Sour (picks up from the first and ends around the time Squidward becomes agitated), and "I Know" by Jude (begins in the kitchen and stretches on to the end). Lyrics removed as of August 13th, 2005.

_**Bother**_

_By: Creature of Habit_

Spongebob curled deeper into the soft sanctuary of cotton sheets. On any other night he would be drifting into a satiated, comforting sleep, consoled by their gentle coolness. But, tonight, the usual, familiar crispness made him feel isolated and dejected. So lonely and alone and cold. Snuggling his legs to his middle, he brushed aside another fit of tears, his quiet, discordant sniffles floating through the darkened liquid like dust particles.

The scene in the diner burned through his mind like an arson fire. It licked at his thoughts and singed his bruised heart. He tried to shut out the pain, but it seemed the more he tried, the more fierce and ardent the flames became. It did nothing but put more fuel on the fire. The searing heat suffocated him inside, and after tossing and turning and crying for more than an hour, he had made up his mind.

_I need to see Squidward._

Squirming a moment to untangle his trembling spongy body from the cloying sheets, Spongebob tiptoed across the room and slipped into his long cerulean robe. In no mood to go through the motions of dolling up in his normal, more formal, attire, the robe seemed decent enough. It was half past one in the morning, and besides, he was only going next door. Peering through the murky atmosphere he sighed in relief, pleased that he had not disturbed Gary.

He descended the stairs one by one, his feet feeling both leaden and numb. It felt like forever as he crossed room after room to get to the front door, and once he did, he almost did not trust himself to see the idea through. It took a good ten minutes of psychological preparation before he got it together enough to open the door and forge on ahead.

_I sure hope I'm doing the right thing._

The Easter Island residence stood dark and silent. One dim light resonated from the direction of the dining room, and Spongebob deduced that it had to be candlelight. It was much too soft to be anything else. On the inside, he could make out the outline of an inky, distorted silhouette. He hesitated in his stride as he approached, a slapdash blend of panic and curiosity nipping at his heels. Should he knock, or take a peek?

_Of course I should knock. I am not here to spy on him. Intruding on his privacy would be wrong. _Spongebob berated himself. But, despite the moral lecture he had just given himself, for some indescribable reason, his feet led him to the window. Principles and scruples be damned. The sight that met him at once saddened and inspired him.

Inside sat Squidward, his thin, lithe frame illuminated by the surreal ambience of aromatheraputic candles. His hunched posture spoke of the usual despair and hopelessness, and although gorgeous in the eyes of his admirer, the doleful expression did not sit right with Spongebob this time. Something made his spine tingle, and it had nothing to do with the butterflies tittering like lightning ions in his stomach.

Sighing to himself, he made for the door and steeled himself to knock. _Or, I could just go in. _Spongebob thought, grinning out of habit, as he reached for the knob and quietly turned it, slipping in and closing the old door behind him. He let his eyes a moment to adjust to the light streaming in from the far room.

Squidward nibbled his bottom lip, plucking another cigarette from the thinning pack and lighting up. He had been so caught up in thoughts of unrequited love that he had not noticed that the very object of his desires had just strolled through the front door. Of course, it was doubtful it would have made much of a difference if he had taken notice. The lovesick Squid had at last resigned himself to the bleak, desolate fate that had hounded him since birth. His loneliness was a beast he just could not shake.

Spongebob could feel his insides turning to mush. Squid had intrigued and infatuated him for as long as he could remember. The aloof man was cultured and sophisticated and dark. He was an utter mystery – a true riddle wrapped in an enigma. The hard edge and dry humour of the sour older man could seduce him on the spot and the sparse smiles and jaded laugh held him spellbound. Unlike Spongebob, Squid sought the loner life and relied on his resources alone. The sardonic, temperamental octopus was a dramatic contrast to the polite, sociable sponge.

_And that is why I fell in love with him._

Spongebob edged closer to the dining room, so entranced, in part from being so tired and also in part because of Squid, that at first the bottle of pills did not register. But, looking closer, his eyes better adjusted, he could read the inscription: sleeping pills. Blinking once, and then again, it began to sink in. Sleeping pills ... an open, empty bottle of sleeping pills.

"Squid ... ward."

The brooding octopus started at the mention of his name, looking in absurd confusion at his rapidly paling neighbor. He squinted and rubbed a bandaged tentacle across his eyes, trying to digest the scene and make certain he was not delusional. Coming fast to the conclusion that had not hallucinated his obnoxious neighbor, he regarded the shocked spectacle staring at him as though he had just sprouted a second head.

"Spongebob." He breathed in a hiss. "I need to get a lock for that door." He groused, one tentacle flicking his cigarette before lifting it to his lips again for another casual drag.

"Squid," Spongebob began in disbelief, tiptoeing to the table and picking up bottle, "d-did you ... you t-take these?" He cast a pleading glance at the other man, their difference in height bringing them eye to eye. "Squid – you took these, didn't you?" Spongebob almost sobbed, the somber, apologetic tone seeping through the maroon orbs told him that he had. "No, Squid – Squid, how many ... why did you do it?" He clutched the bottle so tight his knuckles began to bleed white.

"I didn't count. And none of your damn business." Squid tried to spit but it came out more of a lethargic hum as he put out his cigarette.

"You bet your sweet tentacles it's my business!" Spongebob shouted, dropping the bottle and grabbing hold of the lapels of the white cotton robe. He jerked the perplexed man upright, bringing them nose to nose. "Tell me!" He ranted, shaking the limp figure every other word to get his point across. "I mean it, Squidward, you tell me right now!" Spongebob bit his lip to keep from crying, his hands fisting in the plush material.

"S-stop it. Spongebob. Stop, please." Squid managed at last to choke out, clutching Spongebob's hands in a pair of cool, listless tentacles. His eyes began to roll back and had started to feel as though he might pass out. "Spongebob. You idiot." He mournfully scolded, his leaden head falling to rest against the panting chest of his panicking neighbor.

"Squid." Spongebob started, gaping at the bandaged tentacle. "Holy Neptune, Squid – what did you do?" He pulled the appendage in closer to inspect it, only to have Squidward pull it out of his grasp.

"It's not important." Squidward gurgled, trying to hide the tentacle in his lap.

"Yes it is. Squid, the pills, tell me." Spongebob asked again, trying to stay calm and collected for the sake of Squidward. "Please." One slender arm slid around to the weakening man's back, a sympathetic hand rubbing soothing circles along the tensing muscles of his shoulders and neck. The petrified sponge rested his chin on the smooth, bald head, keeping patient as Squid caught his breath and tried to think.

"I'm not sure. Maybe ten. Maybe more." Squid recounted, his tentacles tightening around the hand still latched like a bear trap to his robe lapel. He tried to ignore the strange feelings, doing his best to focus his attention on the soft, comforting figure in front of him. But the lightheaded, detached sensation kept getting worse, and for the first time in a long time he felt terrified. "Sponge – Sp ... Spongebob," He panted, a tentacle curling in desperation about the square-shaped middle, "I'm scared."

"Ssshhh. It's going to be okay, Squid." Spongebob soothed, rubbing his back more ardently. "How long ago did you take those - Do you remember?" He queried, sliding a gentle finger under the octopus's chin so he could look into the cloudy mahogany spheres. He could have cried then and there. He could not recall a time he had seen Squid so meek and frightened.

"I – I'm not sure." Squid moaned, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate. "Ju-just before you came in." He sobbed, dry throat cracking and the tipsy feeling in his head becoming almost unbearable. "Spongebob." Squid slid another tentacle around the soft frame, burying his head in the ambrosial cerulean cloth and clutching him as tight as he could.

Spongebob cradled the trembling, hysterical Squid in his arms, trying to think of something to do. He massaged Squid's shoulders trying to keep him calm. Then, it hit him.

"Squid, sit up a minute," Spongebob said, situating the squirming man into an upright position. Sure that Squid wasn't going to fall onto the floor, he darted to the refrigerator and cupboard, taking out the container of milk and pouring up a large glass. "Here, Squid," he said, putting the glass to the quivering lips, "Drink this. It'll stop them from absorbing."

Soon, Squid had polished off the last of the milk and Spongebob helped him hobble out to the couch. He located a blanket and wrapped it about the semi-conscious octopus, cuddling him as close as possible and brushing soothing hands along his back and shoulders. He had longed to do this for ages, though he had not imagined it to come amidst such depressing a thing as suicide. He closed his eyes, figuring this to be the first, last, and only time he would be able to do be this close to him. If Squid did not die, then he was bound to come to his senses and reject him as he had such an awful penchant to do.

Squid came to some time later, and glancing at the clock found it to be nearing five in the morning. Outside, the sun had yet to rise, though some of the candles had not yet burned out. It vaguely registered that he was lying against something warm and soft. The fog had yet to clear from his mind, though, and thus he could not place the odd sense of comfort or the reason for it. He tried to lift his head, but he couldn't get it to budge. He sighed and snuggled closer to the silent, breathing heap puddled around him, trying to piece things together.

_Something about a pill. I was upset, that's right. I took sleeping pills. I had that falling out with Spongebob. I came home and got so depressed I tried to commit suicide. Spongebob – then Spongebob ... oh dear Neptune. _Squid froze. The memories at last came clear enough to make out. Struggling to push himself into a sitting position, he gingerly let his eyes fall on the soft, warm heap that he had been napping on. _Oh no. _

"Squid." Spongebob murmured, sparkling blue eyes fluttering open adorably. "Squid." He grinned in relief. "You're okay." One tender yellow hand lit against his cheek, an inquisitive thumb teasing a line along the smooth sage skin. Before Squid understood any better, Spongebob had climbed onto his lap and again had a hold of his robe, sky blue eyes darkening to deep, dangerous cobalt. "You had me so worried." He admonished in a hurt snarl, eyes at once softening and beginning to brim salty tears. "I thought I had lost you." Spongebob squealed, latching onto the confused squid, hands ghosting over every inch of him that he could find.

Squid's breath hitched in his throat. He had to be imaging this. But, it felt so real. It felt like heaven. So, maybe he had died, after all. Just then, one of the hands that caressed him tickled along the base of his spine, causing him to gasp despite himself. _Oh, Neptune that feels good. No, wait – stop, stop it._

"Spongebob." _Stop it. You have to stop this._

"Squid."

"Spongebob." _So innocent. You have no idea what you're doing. Moron._

"Squid."

"Spongebob." _St-st-don't stop._

"Squidward." Spongebob sat up, looking more serious than the sour squid had thought possible for the bubbly bundle of merriment. Delicate hands slid up to rest on the taut shoulders, nails digging delightful crescents in the slippery bare skin. Squid blinked, not sure what to expect as the hands slithered up his neck, once bold fingers becoming ginger and timid as they traced his collarbone and facial features.

"Sp-Spongebob, please." Squid tried to suppress the moan bubbling up in his throat.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a beauty mark there." Spongebob smiled, gliding a finger along the black dot on the side of Squid's neck. "Neat!" The youthful sponge chirped.

"Yeah, sure. Okay." Squid intoned, batting at the curious finger and glaring. "Are you done yet?" The grim man groused, looking quite discomforted. It seemed that Spongebob had altogether forgotten that he sat straddling his cantankerous neighbor's lap, but the blush-inducing position had not eluded poor Squid, who, if he were one to blush, would have been doing just that.

"Squid. I care about you." Spongebob sighed. He had tried to get the snarky man to see that for an age of years. It hadn't yet gotten through, but Spongebob was nothing if not persistent. Squid needed a friend, he needed someone to take care of him, and Spongebob planned on being that friend and someone. Everyone deserved to be loved.

"Of course you do." Squid mocked. "You care about everyone, Spongebob." _Here we go again. _"Okay, enough, get off of me." Squid growled, trying to hide the hurt in his voice as he pushed the flirtatious yellow square to the other side of the couch. "Go on home, Spongebob. Go back to Patrick and the rest of Bikini Bottom. Get out of my sight." Squid ground out, gathering his robe about his unsteady frame and stomping off into the kitchen.

Spongebob blinked, confused. _What just happened? _Squid had a habit of being rude and unpredictable at times, but this cut it. _I thought things were going good. I don't understand – what did I do to make him so angry? _Spongebob, regaining his usual bulldog determination, collected himself and trotted out to the kitchen. Squid stood at the counter, sifting out grounds to make a pot of morning coffee.

"Squidward? Are you okay?" Spongebob fidgeted. His eyes trailed the silent, impudent man's movements as he measured out the grounds and added them to the machine.

"I told you to get out of here." Squid mumbled, keeping his back to his irritating obsession and hoping if he ignored him it might help things sink in.

"I just said I care about you. Caring is a good thing. I think." Spongebob retorted, scratching his head. He was becoming a bit impatient and more than perplexed at his obstinate, anti-social neighbor's reaction to something so innocent.

"Spongebob." Squid sighed in frustration, a loud crack resounding through the quiet room as he slammed the mug he had taken out the cupboard onto the counter. He turned to face the insistent one, tentacle on hip, face lit up in the best disaffected scowl he could muster. "I get it. You care. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to be alone." Once more turning his back on the dense sponge, he set about to pouring water into the coffee maker.

"But, that's the problem, Squidward. You're alone all the time. It isn't good for you. You need friends." Spongebob tried again. He had to get Squid to come to his senses on this. Being alone so often had made him bitter and cold and intolerable. It just wasn't good for his mental health. Of, that of Spongebob, who spent so much time trying to get him out of his shell.

"I don't need friends." Squid argued, turning on his heel and death glaring. "I never had any as a child. I never had any in school. I've never had any as an adult. I got used to it. It's all I've ever known. I like it, okay. I don't want friends. I am not you, Spongebob. Get that through your think head. I don't need friends. For the last time, please get out of my house. Go back to your boyfriend, Patrick." Squidward snarled, pointing a stern tentacle in the direction of the front door.

"Patrick. Boyfriend." Spongebob blinked incredulously a couple of times before grimacing at the outrageous accusation. "Squidward, Patrick is not my boyfriend." The sore sponge corrected. "Besides, he's been dating Sandy for almost three years." Spongebob said brightening.

Squid stood dumbfounded – dumbfounded and secretly delighted.

"So ... can I stay for coffee?" Spongebob managed to squeak out, rubbing a timid hand along his arm.

"Like it would do me any good to tell you no." Squid mumbled flatly, tentacle falling limp to his side and shoulders slumping in defeat. He felt a touch better about letting him hang around after finding out that he and Patrick were not an item.

"Thanks, Squid." Spongebob beamed, back to his usual optimistic spirit. _So that's what was eating at him. He thought Patrick and I were a couple. I wonder if he'll be nicer to me now that he knows we're not. _

"Whatever." Squid shrugged and sighed, taking a blue mug out the cupboard and placing it beside his purple one.

Soon, the pair sat at the kitchen table quietly sipping steaming cups of gourmet espresso. Squidward had stepped out to retrieve the morning paper from the front stoop, and Spongebob sat trying to make out what he could of the publication from his side. It had been almost five minutes, and the silence had finally caught up to our loquacious little sponge.

"Hey!" Spongebob exclaimed as he read the front page headline, "It says here they're going to remodel some of the exhibits at the Bikini Bottom Zoo." He proceeded to begin reading the article aloud, much to the disgust of his laconic host.

"Spongebob." Squid dropped the paper to cast him a displeased look. "I let you stay for coffee. I would appreciate it if you would be quiet and let me read my paper in peace." He lifted the paper, once again obscuring his face.

"Oh, tartar sauce. Squid, I'm just trying to be nice to you." Spongebob pouted, gliding an absent-minded finger about the rim of the dark blue coffee mug.

"Don't." Squid replied, trying to keep his mind on the paper and off of the good-natured bane of his existence that sat beside him.

"But, why? Why are you so afraid of someone being nice to you?" Spongebob retaliated, flattening his hands on the table and looking at the paper. _Enough is enough. _Raising a hand, he squished the paper onto the table, bound and determined to get an answer. "I want to know."

"Spongebob, just drop it." Squid implored, trying to get Spongebob to let loose of the paper. "Let go of the paper, you idiot. I am trying to read it." Squid spit, smacking at the hand none too politely. _I knew this was a bad idea. _

"I'm not going to drop it until you tell me why you won't let me be nice to you." Spongebob declared, latching onto the paper tighter, and in the struggle ripping it. "Oops. Sorry." _Uh oh. He's mad. _

"Now look what you did!" Squidward shouted in dismay. "You barnacle head! Oh, forget it." Gathering up the scattered bits and pieces of paper, the cross octopus angrily tossed them in the trash bin and headed for the other room, not bothering this time to try to make the other go home. _What's the use. He never listens anyway._

Spongebob mentally kicked himself. That wasn't supposed to happen. It seemed nothing he did could make things better. _Maybe he's right. Maybe I am all of those bad things he says I am. I try so hard to make him happy, but instead it just makes angry. Maybe he's right. _

"You forgot this." Spongebob said meekly as he put the cup of espresso in front of Squid, cringing as the perturbed man snatched it out of hand. Clearing a place on the couch, he sat down, trying to think of something that wouldn't make his secret crush mad at him. "Squidward, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He apologized, staring into his cup of coffee.

No response.

"I guess you're right. I guess you really don't want to be my friend. I keep trying to convince myself that you just need time to adjust, but I can see that isn't it. I'm sorry I put you through all of that. I promise I won't bother you anymore." Spongebob felt his heart drop. He didn't agree with what he was saying. He didn't want to leave Squid alone. But the last thing he ever wanted to do was upset him. So, if Squid wanted to be left alone, then he would let him alone. Or, at least pretend to.

"Why?" An inaudible question.

"Huh?" Spongebob couldn't quite be sure if Squid had said it or he had just imagined it.

"Why – why do you care?" Squid elaborated, taking a sullen sip of espresso and keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Because I do." Spongebob replied, again confused.

"You shouldn't." Squid reasoned, rubbing a tentacle along his arm to try to comfort himself.

"Of course I should. Squid, you're losing me." Spongebob looked to the morose octopus for some sort of explanation.

"You shouldn't care. No one else does. I'm a nobody – a complete nothing. No one cares about a nobody." Squid elucidated, turning his face to the side in shame.

"Look on the bright side, Squid. Nobody is perfect, and so if you're a nobody, that makes you perfect!" Spongebob tried to bring a bit of levity to the sad predicament. It didn't work, though, he could see, as Squid cast him a disturbed glare before scooting off and curling up at the far end of the couch.

"I did it again." Spongebob sobbed in frustration. "Squid, please. I didn't mean it that way. I was just trying to cheer you up." Scooting nearer to the moping octopus, he reached out a hand to console him.

"Don't touch me." Squid spat, tensing and curling up into a tighter ball.

"Squid, this is nonsense." Spongebob admonished him, reaching out a tender hand and massaging his back despite the threat not to. It took a minute, but at last Squid stopped resisting and seemed to submit to the soothing physical contact. "Squid, I know that my being nice doesn't mean much to you because you think it's just in my nature to be like this. Sure, that's true, but there are a lot of things I do for you, or at least I try to, that I don't for anyone else because ... you're special to me." Spongebob gulped, taking a deep breath as Squid peeked around his shoulder to get a better look at him.

"What are you getting at?" Squid inquired, his voice soft and muffled.

"I'm saying that – if I need advice, you're the first person who comes to mind. I try to ask you, but you just get mad at me and tell me to go home. I stick up for you a lot, and I help you out when you need it. I let you scream at me and insult me and I don't get upset about it. I let you stay at my house that one time and I took care of you. Of course, you did take advantage of me and make me dress up in that terrible maid outfit, but that's okay. I helped you on that strike. Of course, I didn't know what a strike was and I almost lost my job, but I don't hold that against you. And then there was that time ..."

"Spongebob," Squid interjected, slapping a tentacle over the rambling Sponge's mouth, "I get it."

"Squid, it isn't that I care about you the same. It's that you won't let me care about you like I do." Spongebob confessed, nibbling his lower lip and boring holes into the floor as Squid had been doing before. "Squidward, please." Spongebob pleaded, raising his eyes to the other man again. "Let me."

Squid let his eyes drop to his cup of espresso, seeming to ruminate on the idea. He had not been expecting this. He had not been prepared for it. Rejection, yes. But this – not in a million years. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tried to keep himself in one piece. It was so tempting to act on impulse, but, of course, that would ruin everything. He had gone through a lot of hurt in his life. He had just suffered the shock of suicide. It just wasn't that simple. But it was a start.

"Okay." He choked out, nodding, tears slipping from under his closed lids.

"Squid." Spongebob cooed in an effort to comfort him, sliding his hand around the other's shoulders and pulling him into a chaste embrace. "You take the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He soothed, offering a reassuring squeeze to the trembling shoulders. "You go ahead and cry if you need to. Get it out. That's okay. I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

Outside the Easter Island residence, the sun began to rise on another day in Bikini Bottom. Inside, Spongebob and Squidward huddled close together on the couch drifting into a contented slumber, hearts and souls feeling lighter that air. It would take time, but as Shakespeare said, the road to love is never an easy one.

**Fin.**

Okay, you can come out now. It's over. It's pathetic and probably disturbing, but I think it's cute. I don't mind that a lot of people most likely think I am a depraved pervert with too much time on her hands. I had fun, and that is what is important. Besides, it is isn't like I wrote a make-out scene or anything. It wouldn't bother me, of course, but my point in this was to gain experience in getting inside a character's head. I am going to need it if I don't get my co-partner back soon. I hate putting you through these lame stories and whatnot (and no doubt scarring your minds with this crap) but is has a purpose.

Review if you're up to it. Like it or not, I'd like to hear. I don't mind. Lay it on me. If anyone does like this, I might think of writing another one.

Squidward (glaring skeptically): Shouldn't Spongebob be the one acting like a blubbering, sentimental idiot?  
Creature of Habit (blinks): You don't like it?  
Squidward(deadpan): No.  
Creature of Habit (sighs): I should've expected that.  
Spongebob(beams): I liked it!  
Squidward(rolls his eyes): You like everything, barnacle-brain.  
Creature of Habit (play-smacks Squid): Quiet you. Thank you Spongebob.  
Squidward(scowls): Stop encouraging him.  
Creature of Habit(pouts): Squidward, go play your clarinet.  
Spongebob(grins): Yeah. Play it outside. Creature has bad crab grass this year.  
Squidward(quirks a brow): So?  
Spongebob: So ... if you play your clarinet it will make it go away.  
Creature of Habit(is in hysterics)  
Squidward(not amused): Very funny. I'm out of here.(stomps off)  
Spongebob(confused): Did I do something wrong?  
Creature of Habit(still laughing her pants off)


End file.
